


Strawberries & Cigarettes

by reids



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Sad Spencer Reid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:13:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26276959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reids/pseuds/reids
Summary: It’s easy for most people to forget the bad times, and to long for somebody under the false pretense that their relationship was perfect—but Spencer is cursed with the ability to remember that Derek really was perfect.
Relationships: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid
Comments: 4
Kudos: 90





	Strawberries & Cigarettes

Thinking back on it, the dumbest thing that Spencer has ever done is let Derek go.

He can remember when Derek would tap on his window and convince him to sneak out to tag along on midnight drives. Although the roads were empty, and the fluorescent bulbs that gave life to otherwise dead parking lots were eerie, there was nothing more comforting than sitting in the passenger’s seat of Derek’s 1995 Honda Accord with a strong hand on his skinny thigh.

It’s easy for most people to forget the bad times, and to long for somebody under the false pretense that their relationship was perfect—but Spencer is cursed with the ability to remember that Derek really  _ was _ perfect.

Their unlikely relationship started as a tutor-ship. Spencer strolling down the walkway and up the stairs of Derek’s side of the two family home on Fletcher Street, sitting criss-cross on his blue plaid sheets, leaning into him before their lips brushed against each other and they couldn’t help themselves. The pencil in Spencer’s hand was shown no mercy, and the kiss was interrupted by the snapping of the graphite against the paper. Blush covered Spencer’s pale cheeks, and Derek’s tongue darted out to his lips for one last taste of Spencer Reid. 

The next Thursday, Spencer approached the doorstep of the old house, examining the yellow paint chipping and falling from the wood before he rang the doorbell. The second he was invited inside by Mrs. Morgan, he hurried to Derek’s room, desperate since the week before for another moment alone with him.

“Spence-” Derek began, but was interrupted by cold hands on his cheeks and chapped lips on his mouth. He returned the kiss, of course, holding the skinny boy’s elbows and stumbling backwards. Spencer kicked the door closed and pulled away from Derek’s face, breathless as he rid himself of the messenger bag hanging next to his hip.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I liked it.”

“You did?”

“Of course I did.”

Spencer left the Morgan residence that day with a few dark hickeys on his neck, and without his virginity.

Derek was captain of the football team, so he wasn’t exactly loud about his relationship with Spencer. Still, they shared glances across classrooms, snaked fingers into belt loops in busy hallways, ate lunch in the front seat of Derek’s car, sneaking kisses between bites of peanut butter sandwiches.

With Spencer’s home life, it was easy to sneak out. With a quick poke of his head into his mother’s room, and quiet footsteps on the creaky wood, he was out the door, pulling the shared family Toyota out of the driveway and hauling it to Derek’s house.

He’d climb through the window and fall onto the floor (because he’s never been very graceful), standing and smiling when he was greeted with a sweet kiss and a warm hoodie. They’d snuggle up in Derek’s full bed, eating chips and watching a movie on his laptop, getting bored quickly and inevitably ending the night with Spencer underneath Derek’s much larger body.

Spencer often would spend the night on the Morgans’ couch, having been invited by their mother, who knew what poor Spencer’s life was like on Pine Street. She’d make a nice meal, give Spencer her warmest blanket and softest pillow, and kiss his forehead before wishing him sweet dreams and a refreshing sleep.

It was nice to have a mother, if only for a couple of years.

Spencer, obviously, can remember their first official date—but he’s pretty sure that even if he had a normal brain, he’d never forget it.

Derek brought him to a drive-in at the end of November. It was cold that night, and although they were both clad in sweats and hoodies and covered in blankets, they abused the opportunity, and stayed wrapped up in each other for hours.

Spencer laid against Derek’s chest on the hood of the car, and Derek pressed occasional kisses in Spencer’s shaggy hair. 

With Derek’s hands on his body and lips on his neck, Spencer has never felt more loved than he did in that moment.

They’d been dating for two months when Spencer told Derek he loved him.

It was December 14th, 7:58 am. Derek’s hand was on Spencer’s thigh on their drive to school, and all of a sudden, he pulled his hand away, turning up the volume on the radio. Spencer laughed when he realized that Fergalicious was blaring through the car.

Derek poked Spencer’s side, making him giggle, and started singing. He didn’t skip a single word.

“Why do you know this whole song?” Spencer laughed. Derek didn’t answer, only continued waving his finger and singing along. “I love you.” Spencer had said, and his eyes widened when he realized it was the first time he ever had.

Derek snapped out of his goofy mood immediately, parking the car in the school parking lot and turning to Spencer. “You love me?” 

“Y-yeah, I-”

“I love you too.”

“You do?”›

“Yes, I do.”

“Well...good.” Spencer smiled and kissed Derek’s cheek before stepping out of the car.

That afternoon, Spencer taught Derek about the concept of phrenology. He pointed to the spot at the base of Derek’s skull that L.N. Fowler says he experiences physical attraction (Spencer called it amativeness). He tapped the back of Derek’s head and told him that that’s where his inhabitiveness lies, that's why he was so hesitant about moving away to college. At the crown of his head is his self-esteem, and beneath that is his approbativeness—which is what took over on the football field, when his every move was for applause from the audience and praise from his coach.

Phrenology, Spencer said, was discredited as a scientific theory in the nineteenth century, but it’s too beautiful and fascinating to ignore— _ don’t you think, Derek? _ —because then he can tell where exactly his favorite traits of Derek’s are hiding.

Derek greeted Spencer the next morning by pressing an index finger to the end of his eyebrow, and simply explaining, “Calculation.” Another poke to his forehead, “Locality,” one below his eye, “language,” and a last one to his hairline, “benevolence. Those are my favorites.”

It made Spencer blush, and the butterflies that filled his stomach stayed there all day, and came back every time he thought about that morning. They still revisit him sometimes, when he remembers that nobody has ever said anything so simply romantic to him since then—and, most likely, nobody ever will.

Spencer wore Derek’s number on every autumnal Friday, and—although he knew next to nothing about football—cheered with the Morgans on the cold bleachers. He stood, wrapped in Derek’s jacket and his visitor’s jersey, his frigid hands in his pockets, profusely thanking Mrs. Morgan for every hot chocolate and fried dough she bought for him.

Because Derek was often exhausted after his games, Friday nights became designated “girls’ nights,” which meant that Sarah and Desirée stayed up half the night painting Spencer’s nails, styling his long hair, doing his makeup, and making him watch chick-flicks (“ _ Which, by the way, Derek, are not as bad as you made them out to be _ ”). 

He would show off his pretty, glittery manicure to Derek every Saturday, and send him photos he took with blush covering his cheeks and highlighter spotting the top of his button nose. Derek was too embarrassed to admit it, but he thought it was the cutest thing in the world. His phone background for a long time was a photo of Spencer all dolled up—pink lip gloss, butterfly clips in his hair, a different color of polish on each of his fingernails—and grinning from ear to ear.

The Morgan girls taught Spencer how to paint his own nails, and put on his own makeup, and put in his own french braids before he moved to California for college. Even now, when he’s bored, and sad, and wants to feel pretty, he thinks of the girls’ careful hands, guiding his own through his hair, or how to brush the powder over his cheeks, or showing him how to hold the nail olish brush so his hand doesn’t cramp, and he takes the knowledge they’ve imparted upon him to make himself feel better. He remembers when they told him he had the healthiest hair, and the softest hands, and the nicest skin—but those things are apparently not enough for Derek Morgan.

He ended things before he moved away from home for school. He told Spencer he couldn’t do it long-distance. It was cold, really. It hurt both of them, though Spencer thought he was entirely alone because Derek didn’t even shed a tear. They dated for two years, and grew inseparable in that time. There were no problems in their relationship—at least not any Spencer was aware of—but Derek seemed to have no problem dropping him and leaving the state.

Spencer still talks to Sarah, Desirée, and Fran, but Derek doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know that Spencer would take him back in a heartbeat, even after all these years. He doesn’t know that he lives in Spencer’s dreams of domestic bliss, that Spencer still thinks about the satisfaction he brought him, that, even still, nobody knows his brain or his body like Derek did.

He’s pulled from his thoughts when Derek’s hand lands on his shoulder, and he says something about a new case, uses the name  _ pretty boy _ . Nobody at the office knows of what they used to be, or even that they knew each other. 

It’s better this way—for Derek, at least.

  
  



End file.
